by Maribel Fox
Whatever it is, he cares not now. Once he’s stashed her things under the bed of his squalid lodgings, he quickly turns heel and walks back out, pulling me with him inadvertently.
I don’t think he knows what he has with me in his pocket. He knew enough to take the shard. Enough not to leave it with the rest of the things.
This man may be un imbécile, but I fear he is not to be underestimated all the same. He has it out for our Callie, and that is all I need to know.
There’s no doubt he’s feeling on top of the world, his steps confident as he heads down to the street level and enters a dingy-looking bar.
It’s the type of shithole that could give the taverns on Tortuga a run for their money. Dark, dirty, too loud, and stinking of piss and stale grog. The thief heads up to the bar, exuding the kind of simple excitement that would’ve made him an easy mark in my day.
Seems times have changed now, though. The guy that would’ve been the mark in the past is the cur responsible for Callie’s loss. In all my centuries, I’ve learned that for all the change in the world, many things stay the same. I’d be a fool to think nothing changes. In this time, it seems a man who I would have expected to be most useful as chum could in fact be a real threat.
I followed him without showing myself in the hopes that he’d reveal something of his plan. That I could learn what he’s up to and report back to Miles… if I ever make it back to the beach. But it’s proving to be a waste of time. The snake is just at the bar, drinking. He’s making small talk with an older man, a man that looks to be too well-dressed for a place like this, but they’re not discussing anything important.
“You seem in a celebratory mood,” the older man says with a small smile. He’s well-born, from noble blood if I had to guess, his skin pale and unblemished by even a single day’s hard work in the sun. He gestures at the bartender and soon the drinks are refilled.
“I am,” the thief answers. “Been putting in a lot of work and it looks like it’s finally going somewhere,” he says, downing half his ale in one gulp. He was faking the inebriation before, but now the slurs are genuine, his gestures too wide, sloppy.
So that must be it. He’s planning on taking credit for Callie’s work. The already dim lights in the bar flicker, but it’s all I can do short of showing myself.
Which I feel would be a very bad idea right here in this moment.
“Well congratulations. Drink up, lad. You’ve earned it,” the older man encourages, pushing another drink toward the thief — I’ve learned from listening that his name is Trenton, but I don’t care to address him by it. He is nothing more than a cowardly thief and that is all the courtesy he’ll get from me.
“Ya ever feel like you’re wasting your time, not making any progress, then BAM, it all comes together?” the thief asks, his slurs growing more pronounced, his gestures even wilder.
The older man chuckles and nods.
“More than you might think,” he answers, his eyes too alert to have drank anything.
The thief pushes back from the bar, trying to stand from his stool on wobbly legs that won’t support him. He leans forward, an elbow on the bar nonchalantly.
“Thanks for the company,” he says, all one word. “And drinks,” he adds. “Should head back though.” His face scrunches into concentration, a look that seems out of place for him.
The older man nods, a placid smile in place.
“Of course. Take care,” he says.
Outside the dingy bar, the thief takes a deep breath, chuckling madly to himself before setting off back toward his rented room. He makes it as far as the edge of the streetlamp’s glow before a shadow approaches, setting off alarms inside me, despite my lack of mortality.
He’s the one that should be worried, but instead, he stops, swaying and narrowing his eyes at the shadow.
“Shit,” he chuckles, blowing out a breath. “You scared me. I forget something?” he asks as the older gentleman from the bar comes nearer.
He says nothing, approaching with an undeniably predatory gait.
“Uh…” Whatever Trenton the thief plans to say next is totally lost. Faster than lightning the stranger moves in. He doesn’t even have time to cry out before his voice is nothing but a wet gurgle. From the darkness, I hear sickening slurping sounds, the same sounds that turned me off ever eating marrow, no matter what a delicacy it may be.
If I had a stomach left to turn, I think this would do the trick, but as it stands, I’m left playing witness to the grisly murder of a man I wanted nothing to do with in the first place.
The stranger leaves his body in an alley, forgotten like the rest of the refuse, and for a split-second, I almost feel remorse for the man.
Then I remember what he did to Callie, what an absolute mess he’s made of everything, and the feeling is gone.
I’d kick him myself if I could.
But I can’t.
I can’t do anything. I can’t even leave. The shard remains in his pocket, and until someone comes along to remove it — or him — this alley is where I’ll have to stay.
Joy.
Why couldn’t Miles have just taken me to the beach like I asked? We could have avoided all this unpleasantness.
Not that I imagine he cares much about my discomfort.
Can you blame him?
That is a difficult question. One I’m not prepared to answer.
Hours go by with no one noticing the corpse only steps away. A few stray animals take brief interest before running off suddenly. I’m resigning myself to the idea that I’ll be stranded here forever when a new shadow darkens the alleyway.
“Bollocks,” comes the curse of the red-haired Englishman from earlier. He stands at the mouth of the alley tutting, shaking his head before he reaches into his pocket for a strange device.
“We got another,” is all he says into the device before he puts it away.
Curious.
He comes closer another couple of steps, then mutters another curse. “Shite, of all the knobheads…” he grumbles some more, all the while rifling through the thief’s pockets for whatever he can find.
Then he finds the shard. It’s my moment to show myself, but for some reason I hesitate. He’s going through the dead man’s wallet when an odd tune erupts from his pants.
He withdraws the same device as before, scowling as he holds it up to his ear.
“Yeah, we need to get the team here before the locals find him,” he says, relaying some directions as he holds up my shard to the light. He studies the stone with an intensity that I haven’t seen from anyone else, an intensity that suggests he might know what he’s looking at. I decide the moment he’s through with his conversation, I’ll show myself.
It’s time someone other than Miles and Nora knew about me. Maybe he can give me some answers, help me figure out how to break free of this existential prison.
“Aye, just don’t faff about getting here,” he grumbles.
This is it, Henri. Now or never, mon ami.
Though I haven’t had the means to breathe in centuries, I take a deep breath. It seems to help still, strange as that might seem.
I have to focus in order to show myself. I have to choose to appear, which is complicated when you’re already conflicted.
The Englishman is still looking at my rock curiously, his green eyes eerily intense. He shakes his head, moves his hand, and then… nothing.
Darkness.
19
Miles
Of all the great pleasures in this world, I’m one-hundred percent positive that waking up with Callie is at the top of the list. She’s curled around me, one leg draped over one of mine, her head in the crook of my arm, hair fanning out around us both like a molten glowing halo.
She’s perfect.
I’m still not sure how I wound up with her here, in my bed, but I’ll be damned if I question a good thing at this point. Her skin glows in the early morning light, freckles dotting her cheeks with constellations I want to memor
ize for the rest of my life.
Shit.
I don’t know where this is headed, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a happily ever after for me and Callie. A thalassophobic and a selkie — do two more opposite things exist? Last night was amazing — more than amazing, incredible, mind-shattering, world-altering — but I’d be a fool to expect anything more to come out of it.
Suddenly, I know why I’m awake.
Violent pounding on my door, enough to make the whole interior shake. I don’t know if there was another round of knocking that woke me, or if it’s just a territorial thing alerting me, but I know that I’m wide awake now and wondering who the hell is interrupting my perfect moment.
It’s not the kind of knock that would come from my family. It’s not a friendly knock at all.
Callie murmurs in her half-sleep, but I kiss her forehead and shush her.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper, her eyes never even opening.
I throw on some clothes before I head to the door and steel myself for whatever’s on the other side.
Steeled though I was, I wasn’t prepared to see Brian Seaver red-faced and fuming.
At least he lets me up on deck instead of trying to shout down into the cabin at me — I presume that’s what he’s here for, judging by his expression.
And judging by the horizon, it’s barely six in the morning. The hell is he doing here this time of day?
“Stay away from her,” Brian says, his voice deadly calm and deep. The kind of deep that’s always made me feel like a little kid no matter how old I get.
“Pardon?” I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I don’t know why he’s doing it now of all times. Does he know his daughter is in my boat right now?
Somehow, I think this would all be going very differently if he did.
“You heard me. I know what you are, and I never made a fuss about it before, but don’t think I won’t do whatever I have to to protect my daughter. I know you were fighting with her ex last night. Not hard to figure out what’s going on.”
It’s news to me, but I try not to show it. How long has he known I’m a selkie?
Who else knows?
I thought it was just me, my parents, and the Court, but now I’m not so sure.
“I think you’re confused, Brian,” I say calmly, the water beneath us placid for a change, letting me stand without bracing myself.
“Like hell I am. You don’t want the whole town to know you’re a selkie, you’ll be smart and stop trying to lure her into the ocean.”
I snort. I don’t mean to laugh with the situation as serious as it is, but the idea of me trying to lure Callie into the ocean is… well, it’s preposterous. Absolutely the ravings of a mad man that doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.
“You’re crazy. Callie’s a grown woman who can choose to spend time with whomever she wants.”
In an instant he’s got a fistful of my shirt, dragging me up to him with a firm yank.
“You listen here you little shit, I spent Callie’s whole life protecting her from influences like you, and I’m not going to let you ruin it all.”
“Protecting her? More like imprisoning her. All she ever wanted was freedom and all you ever gave her was fear.”
“She should be afraid. And so should you.”
“You don’t scare me, Brian. I’m not a kid you can intimidate anymore.”
“This isn’t intimidation. It’s a promise. I know your kind. Stop trying to get her into the ocean or I’ll make sure you regret it every day of your life.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Why the hell do you think I’d want to drag her into the ocean? She came to me with this research. The last thing I want to do is put her in danger and I’ve been trying to talk her out of it. You’ve done such a good job brainwashing terror into her that she’s going to panic and drown if I’m not there to stop it.”
Brian glares at me, a look I’m not sure how to read.
“Drowning? She’s a siren. She’s not going to drown; she’s going to disappear.”
“She…”
What?
The door behind me creaks open, and the air on deck goes eerily still.
“Dad?” Callie asks, stepping up beside me. “What are you talking about?”
She looks at me, and I can’t meet her gaze. She’s still wearing my over-sized t-shirt, still smells like my bed, like our sex mingled together, and all I want is to go back to having her in my arms when everything was perfect.
“Miles?”
There’s confusion in her voice, but not just that. She’s upset too. Looking at me with this betrayal in her eyes that cuts me to the core.
It’s obvious that Brian’s flustered by her appearance, easily putting two and two together and not liking the solution.
“What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head. It’s true. At least partially.
Brian scoffs. “Never told you what he is, did he? Not surprising. All the same with their secrets and lies.”
She’s not jumping to believe her old man, but the shimmering questions in her eyes tell me she’s not sure. Her confidence is wavering in me.
“Cal, it’s not like that. I—”
“So it’s true? You kept this to yourself?”
“Well, yeah, what else was I supposed to—”
She glares at me, just briefly, before turning to her father.
“What’s going on? Tell me all of it. Now.”
If I wasn’t also in the doghouse right now, I’d take so much more joy in watching Callie stare down her dad. Unfortunately, we’re both on her shit list at the moment, so I don’t get to enjoy it at all.
Brian looks to me, suddenly wavering. He’s dug this grave though, and I’m not going to lend him a hand climbing out.
He sighs, shaking his head.
“It’s true,” he says. “You’re a siren, just like your mother. She loved you, but the ocean never stopped calling her. It took her away from us, and I knew it would do the same to you if I didn’t stop it. I tried to protect you, tried to keep you from spending time with people that would tempt you,” he adds with a glare in my direction, “but it’s going to be up to you.”
Callie snorts, laughing out loud at what I’m sure seems like the absolute absurdity of it all.
“This is your big answer? You’ve had all these years to come up with something better and you’re going to try to convince me with some fairytale about magic? Come on,” she groans, exasperated by the whole thing.
She looks my way, still obviously pissed but with a sparkle in her eye. She seriously must think we’re playing a prank on her.
I wish it were that simple.
A siren. I had no idea.
It explains a lot.
And leaves even more questions.
“Well? What about you? Are you going to go with the same absurd story? Hokum and nonsense?” she asks, voice verging on hysterical. She’s hoping I’ll be the voice of reason, give her some light at the end of this crazy tunnel, but she’s going to be disappointed.
I sigh, shaking my head.
“I wish it was hokum and nonsense, Cal, but… it’s not.”
Callie’s face falls, her jaw drops, and she starts to slowly shake her head.
“You’re joking, right? You’re a… a what?”
“A selkie,” I sigh.
Her jaw tightens, eyes blazing when she narrows them at me.
“I’d expect it from him, you know. The secrets and manipulation. But from you? I thought we told each other everything, I thought—” She presses her lips together, shaking her head before her voice can break.
I want to wrap her in my arms and hold her like I did last night, until all the hurt and sadness goes away.
But it won’t work this time because I did this. I didn’t trust her with my secret when we were kids, and everything that’s happened between us since then is a direct result of that.
Footsteps on the dock draw my attention away for a second, long enough to see a severe-looking woman in a dark pantsuit approaching my boat, her honey-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asks, squinting up at the deck.
“Can I help you?” I call back.
“You Miles Halloran?”
“Who’s asking?”
That seems to be the exact question she was hoping for. She pulls a wallet from her back pocket and flashes a shiny badge.
“Detective Davis, LBPD. Like to ask you a couple of questions if that’s all right?”
Time stops, blood freezing in my veins.
It is way too early to deal with this many crises.
I can feel Callie’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my skull, but I don’t want to look too shifty in front of the detective. I’ve got no idea what she’s doing here, but I know better than to give her a reason to get curious about me.
“Everything all right?” I ask, turning my head slightly.
She jerks her head back. “Why don’t you step off the boat?”
The sour feeling in my stomach gets worse. Her tone is tight professionalism, not even pretending to be my friend.
“Miles?” Callie asks, voice small.
I’m vaguely aware of her dad still being here too, but most of my attention is focused on the detective and her threatening stance. Should I call a lawyer?
Does that make me look guilty of something?
“What’s all this about?” I ask, coming down the gangway slowly, not making any sudden movements to spook her. Cops these days are so jumpy, so eager to reach for the trigger.
“Word around town is you were in a fight last night.”
I snort, trying to remember this is a serious situation. “You following up on bar brawls now? Nothing better to do?”
Detective Davis doesn’t crack a bit. “I follow up on bar brawls that end up with a corpse,” she says, voice edged in steel.
“What?” Callie’s stumbling down the gangway, tripping over my pajama pants that are too long for her. “What did you say?”